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Oh, we had talked about it, fantasized about it a lot before that
night. I would offer Nichole her favorite dildo and say, "Play with
yourself . . . for me."

Her slit gleamed in the soft light from our bedside lamp, and with a
saucy smile on her coral lips, she would drag the eight-inch dildo
along her moist pussy. She would, biting her full lower lip, slip the
dildo into her warm depths. I could hear the moist sucking sound. She
groaned loudly. With closed eyes, eagerly, she began to fuck herself
with her dildo.

My wife had several lovers prior to our getting married, and in
graphic detail she told me of some of the magnificent fucks she had
gotten through the years. As I watched her pleasure herself with the
dildo, interestingly enough (am I the only odd one here?), I enjoyed
watching her expressions, the way her lips twitched in lust or the way
her forehead crinkled with a focus of desire; I enjoyed watching her
face more even than watching her pussy, as she rose to a climax. Quite
often I could tell who she was fantasizing about fucking. If it was
hard and deep, it was Tom, her lover in college. If it was a slow and
sensual fuck, it would be Bryan, her lover before she and I met.

Watching her expression that particular night, I whispered, "It's Tom,
isn't it, between your wet thighs, fucking you like there's no
tomorrow?"

Nichole was too far gone to do more than shake her head and whimper.

I whispered, "You'd like another cock, wouldn't you? A big, thick
one."

Another soft whimper.

"Wouldn't you?" I asked again.

"Yes, yes," she gasped as she lifted her ass and climaxed beside me.

That was just one of many times. We had talked about her taking a
lover, but for some reason, it had never happened. We were amateurs, I
suppose, in the true sense of the word, and didn't know how to arrange
such matters then.

But sometimes there is serendipity. Or as my Dad said when I walked in
on him one time and caught him in bed, fucking my girl friend when I
was at UCLA, "Son," he would say, "sometimes you just have to seize
opportunity!"

I understood. My girl friend at the time was an opportunity, and I
couldn't blame him. I'm sure she saw my old man as an opportunity,
too.

In our mid-thirties, now, Nichole and I had decided to take dance
lessons-ball room dancing. We learned the waltz and fox trot and swing
and were trying to pick up some of the Latin dances now-the salsa, the
tango, the rumba.

One reason I think Nichole liked the dance lessons was she could dress
sexy, as did most of the gals there, and no one would say anything.
She could show off her figure, which had held up very nicely. A few
added pounds perhaps, but "a nice cushion," I would tell her. Her
breasts are hefty and heavy. Her eyes are almond-shaped, green but
more with emerald flickers. Her mouth-why is it that people don't
notice mouths more? Her lips was full and even without lipstick, they
looked luscious. She has that pouty kind of full lower lip that was
just made for dragging along a cock. Nichole also has the long legs of
a dancer, and more than once I got a hard-on just thinking about them
wrapped around some guy's waist, her heels bouncing against his butt.

Another thing that dance lessons let you get away with is high heels.
Nichole looked dynamite that evening in heels and a short skirt. She
wore a silk blouse I bought her for Christmas-ivory-colored it is.

I nuzzled her throat, knowing it is one part of her that is
exceptionally sensitive.

"Mmm," she murmured, bending her neck in the way women have when they
want their necks to be made love to.

"You look superlative," I told.

She merely smiled at my homage.

As we drove to the dance studio that evening, the sky was darkening,
and an occasional bit of rain sprinkled my windshield. It was cool but
not cold as we walked to the studio. I held an umbrella for Nichole.

Inside, it was warm and friendly. A new guy, who was introduced as
Jack, showed up. His reason for taking dancing lessons? "To meet
ladies," he admitted with a rueful laugh. Athletic, broad-shouldered,
with a gleaming, lopsided grin, he was perhaps in his mid-20s, ten
years younger than us. While he only glanced at Nichole it was a kind
of appraising look, as his eyes drifted over her breasts and in an odd
way visually caressed my wife's long legs. In that brief moment, he
made it clear that he was interested.

The lesson was a group one. There were half a dozen couples, including
us. Jack was the only single there, so the teacher Judy started off
with him. After a bit, we rotated, and everyone changed partners. I
have to admit that was one of the reasons I liked the dance lessons.
Seeing all those men hold Nichole was a real turn-on for me.
Sometimes, after a dance lesson, Nichole would admit to me that she
enjoyed all the touching that went on. Once I felt under her skirt and
she was wet. She just laughed.

"I've been found out," she exclaimed.

Jack made sure that he was the first one to dance with Nichole. For
the briefest of moments, his fingertips caressed Nichole's ass. She
gave him a look that had a hint of invitation in it, and when he
glanced at me, I merely smiled.

After that, Jack danced with my wife every chance he got. He probably
danced with her half the time or more. Each time he took her in his
arms he took the opportunity to brush his fingertips along the side of
her breast or along her thigh. Nichole, like most women, was able to
encourage him without any overt signs. Half way through the lesson,
though, I noticed her nipples were poking against the silk blouse. A
few times Jack pulled her close to him, against his chest. It was so
close that Judy, the teacher, admonished him, "Not so close, not so
close."

"Hard not to," he said and grinned.

"Hard is the right word," my wife added.

After the lesson, they always hold what they call a "practice dance."
Other couples showed up, and we could all practice what we'd learned.

"Why don't you join us, Jack?" I said.

All Nichole did was lift a finely sculpted eyebrow.

Jack gave his usual lopsided grin. "Be glad to."

We selected a table that was as far away as possible from the
brightest of lights and watched the dancing.

I told Jack, "Why don't you take Nichole out and show her what you can
do."

He didn't have to be told twice. They were out on the floor in a
minute, snuggling. Judy didn't approve, of course, which made me laugh
all the more.

When they returned, I got all three of us glasses of wine, which the
studio provided for the dance.

One of the other couples had stopped by our table. I noticed Jack's
hand was under the table, but I didn't say anything. The couple was
chatting with Nichole. The wife said, "Sometimes it is hard to tell
who is your husband."

Nichole wasn't put off by the catty comment. "Maybe they both are."

The woman was shocked. "I never-"

"Obviously," said Nichole, then added, "Some of us are lucky and some
aren't."

After they had left, I noticed that Jack's hand caressed my wife's
sleek leg. She wasn't moving it away; in fact, it appeared she pressed
her warm flesh against his palm. As we sipped our wine, Nichole's
short skirt was pushed higher and higher until the hem of it barely
covered her pussy.

Jack's hand disappeared under the skirt, and my wife's eyes closed and
she murmured a sultry moan just under the music that was playing. At
the same time, Nichole's slender white hand rested on Jack's thigh.
Almost impulsively she squeezed his shaft. There was a very noticeable
bulge in his slacks.

The odor of pussy juice wafted across the small table to my nostrils,
making my cock stiffen. I cleared my throat and in a husky voice said
to Jack, "Would you like to come over to our place for awhile?"

"I can't think of anything I would like better," he replied.

When we got to the lobby, it was raining, so I opened my umbrella. "I
think it's big enough for all three of us."

But as soon as we got outside, Jack grabbed my wife and pressed her
against the bricks. He kissed her deeply, hotly. An instant later,
their tongues were intertwined. My wife, released now from the decorum
of the dance, let out a loud dark moan. Nichole lifted her slender leg
and wrapped it around the back of one of Jack's knees. For a time,
Jack dry fucked my wife against the building. I could see the sexy
gleam of her nylons, the garter belt she favored, and her white silk
panties. I couldn't be sure in the uncertain light from the nearby
streetlight obscured by a large maple, but I thought I could see the
gray stain of her heat on her panties. Jack reached between their
bodies and rubbed her pussy.

"Oh, God," my wife whimpered.

Sometimes in unusual situations a person will do something odd. It
wouldn't be the last time it happened that evening to me. But for some
reason I felt good holding the umbrella over them as Jack and my wife
petted and caressed each other, even if I was getting wet from the
rain. Jack kneaded Nichole's large breasts. He pulled her silk blouse
out of her skirt and reached within, pushing her bra under her chin.
He massaged the ivory melons, tweaking the nipples until they stood
out achingly hard.
Nichole stuttered, "We better get to the car, or I'm going to rape him
right here."

We hurried to my BMW, and I opened the back door. "You two get in," I
told them.

Neither questioned me, but silently climbed into the backseat. I took
my time getting into my car, closing the umbrella carefully. I climbed
into the front seat. I adjusted my rearview mirror, so that I would
get a good look at what they were doing. In the minute or two it had
taken me to climb into the car, Jack had not wasted any time. He had
opened Nichole's blouse. Her tits spilled out of her bra, white in the
dim streetlight. He sucked on breasts, leaving red splotches behind.
He kissed her neck, and Nichole shuddered with delight. He couldn't
know that he had pushed her hot button. Nichole's skirt was pushed up
around her waist. Jack pulled down her panties. When she kicked them
off, they landed in the front seat beside me. I lifted them to my nose
and inhaled the rich odor of my wife's excitement.

There was little subtlety, this first time, in their love making. They
kissed and caressed each other like passionate teenagers. They
couldn't get enough of one another. I couldn't quite tell who was
devouring whom.

Jack got on his knees between my wife's thighs. Nichole spread them
wide for him. His big cock gleamed with several drops of pre-cum. He
lunged forward, and she gasped, sharply inhaling. "My god, you're
huge!" she exclaimed. My dick was straining with excitement as I heard
her being a slut for his cock.

I listened to the soft patter of the rain on the top of the car. Their
panting filled the silence inside. After a few hot, steamy, passionate
minutes, the windows fogged up, which was just as well, for every so
often someone from the dance would walk through the parking lot,
laughing and talking about the evening. Their shadows would flit over
the car. Nichole put her left calf on the passenger side of the front
seat. I reached over-as Jack plunged to her depths and she whimpered
with the pleasure of the royal fucking he was giving her-and caressed
her leg. I felt her shudder and the motion of the fucking communicated
itself through her perspiring body, up her thigh and then to her calf
and finally to my fingertips. It was as if I was participating in the
fucking myself.

My dick was achingly hard. I took out of my pants and stroked it.

I turned around and watch the young stud screw my wife. I reached out
and caressed her cheek. Her eyes were closed, but she sucked on my
fingers as her lover pounded her pussy.

"Jesus!" Jack exclaimed. I saw his ass cheeks clench. Nichole twisted
her head from side to side as he shot a thick load of semen into her
pussy. She flailed and cried out, then slumped back on the backseat. I
could see sweat on her tits and she breathed in ragged gasps.

I swear I could almost feel their hearts pounding hard, then finally
slowing down, slowing down.

Nichole shuddered one last time . . . then lay utterly still,
seemingly exhausted for the moment.

I looked down at my shaft. I had come too, the creamy mixture spilling
over my hand and onto the seat. I had come with them, almost without
realizing it, so powerful was the scene in front of me.

The lovers kissed. Nichole cooed softly, a sure sign she had been
satisfied.

The rain fell steadily but gently.

Finally, Jack moved. He undulated his hips. I saw his thick cock was
glistening with my wife's juices, and more important, it was erect
again.

My wife laughed. "My God, don't you ever get enough?"

"It's been a long time," Jack admitted.

I could see by my wife's glistening eyes that she wasn't unhappy with
the development.

This time Jack took my wife with slow and sensual strokes. Her pussy
made sticky, wet and slurply sounds. I noticed Jack's cum gushing out
and trickling down to the car seat as he fucked her with easy strokes.
I'd have to get the car seats cleaned, I could see. Nichole, so
sensitive and so aroused, had a series of min-orgasms, which rippled
through her lovely body. By now the fragrance of their love-making
filled the interior of the car.

While Jack started out sensually, gradually his thrusts became more
demanding. My wife sighed with pleasure as he had his way with her.
Again and again he pummeled her pussy. Their flesh slapped together.
Nichole was chewing on her lower lip. Jack stiffened, groaned and let
loose another hefty load. Nichole, who has always been something of a
screamer, really let loose. I was surprised they didn't hear it in the
studio.

Finally, I took the two of them home, and Jack and I took turns the
rest of the night with my wife. It was my first experience with sloppy
seconds-or should that be thirds?

Jack often times now takes Nichole to their dance lesson by himself. I
don't mind. My wife is certainly learning some new moves to teach me!

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